


007

by captivated



Category: American Assassin - Vince Flynn Books, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: An American One, Anna Reilly is a BAMF, Annika Has Many Names, BAMF Lydia Martin, But not a werewolf hunter, CIA, Donatella Rahn Is A Bamf, Donatella Rahn and Mitch Are Old Lovers, Everyone hates terrorists, F/M, Hes just learning, Hurt Scott, Its called Kill Shot, Mitch hates Paul Cooke, President Robert Hayes, Protective Donatella Rahn, Protective Greta Ohlmeyer, Scott is a Bad Friend, Sets into the 2nd book, Sorry Not Sorry, Steven Rapp Is Actually Mitch Rapp's Adoptive Brother, Stiles Feels, Stiles Is An Assassin, Stiles Leaves Beacon Hills, Stiles Leaves the Pack, Stiles is Mitch Rapp, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack, Stiles is a hunter, The Pack Being Idiots, Victor wants to kill Mitch, based on the books, but also a good friend, counterterrorism, dont ask
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-08-27 03:11:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8385001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captivated/pseuds/captivated
Summary: ❝where there's smoke, there's fire❞  Stiles Stilinski is gone, and all there is left of him is Mitch Rapp. After leaving Beacon Hills because of his best friend, Scott McCall, Stiles tries to live a normal life. Meeting a girl named Maureen "Mary" Eliot, he finally has a chance until a terrorist attacks hits her plane and kills her along with the innocent passengers on board. About a year later after the death of his beloved, he's recruited into the Central Intelligence Agency by Irene Kennedy. Killing terrorists, officially being promoted as CIA, and becoming the most professional marksman against terrorism; it was only the beginning.  Now, he's called in by an old, Deputy Jordan Parrish, who reports to him that his father has been shot in the line of fire. He's set to go back but it means that he had to be known as Stiles Stilinski; the teenage boy he used to be. He'd be the only ones putting them in danger, not the other way around. After five years of leaving Beacon Hills, he's a different man. A changed man. He's a 007 (double-oh-seven).  - American Assassin / Teen Wolf -





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the books written by Vince Flynn, which will also be an upcoming movie that will star Dylan O'Brien if you haven't noticed. I do NOT own these characters or the Movie/Book/TV Show, it belongs to the rightful owners, Jeff Davis & Vince Flynn.
> 
> Please do not comment disrespectful things on this story, if you do not like it, please exit out. If you have not read the books (American Assassin & Kill Shot) then I suggest you exit out of this story immediately as possible. 
> 
> If you want spoilers and rather read my story, go ahead. Now enjoy!

“ _Stiles_ ,” Scott's voice filled his mind as the 24 year old man stared at himself in the mirror. “ _Stiles, I don't want to do this but you're out of the Pack._ ” Mitch didn't really know what to say that day when his best friend, Scott McCall, told him that he was a liability, a weight on their shoulder, mostly insulting him about his research skills and how he was no help. Scott didn't even show one ounce of emotion that day when he drove him out of Beacon Hills because he felt ashamed that he actually became weak. “ _We're not doing this because you're human._ ” But they were, deep down, they wanted the human out of the Pack. Of course, they kept Allison. She's a hunter for goodness sakes but Stiles—changed his name to Mitch—was just human. “ _We're doing this to protect you._ ”

 

He laughed at himself in the mirror, feeling his fingers tighten around the rim of the polished granite sink, wondering what he did wrong to have the Pack kick him out. Scott knew that Stiles always vowed to die human, nothing else. If being human meant going to hell, then so be it. It was better than being a supernatural creature and going to Purgatory. “ _Protect me?!_ ” He had yelled at Scott. “ _You think that kicking me out of this Pack is protecting me? Who even came up with this stupid idea?_ ” He didn't expect for them to all raise their hands without hesitation. They chose to drive him out, they deserve to deal with the pain that not only that he had caused them, but what they had caused him too. 

 

His life, his future, his career that were already planned out for him in the future in Beacon Hills, it shattered into nothing but millions of shards of dreams that were already untouchable. He was out of the supernatural, he's fine with that now, he didn't need anymore problems or threats creeping up his neck. He was finally apart of the CIA, and he knew how much his father would be proud of him if he knew what he had been doing for the past five years. 

 

For Mitch, Stiles Stilinski didn't exist anymore. He was dead. Gone. He never reared his face to the universe but instead, a Mitch Rapp did. He applied to college, became the best lacrosse player, he minored in French and majored in international business in Syracuse, New York. He also became a professional marksman, an assassin of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), and a loyal boyfriend to Maureen "Mary" Eliot. 

 

About a year or two ago, Mary had died due to a terrorist attack on Pan Am Flight 103. He lost his life that day and he decided to step into his role and exterminate every terrorist ever known to mankind. He applied to a BJJ Academy and managed to take down everyone in there. Thanks to a special move called a Brazilian Jujitsu. It was a move that he pulled off on Victor after sparring and declared himself a winner after Victor cheated so why not break a few rules? Or break a few bones in Victor's body. He didn't feel remorse when he broke Victor's arm, he also didn't feel any remorse when he brought those terrorists down with a single finger on the trigger.

 

Truth is, he never really handled a gun until about a year ago when he was at a 'The Farm' or as the others would like to call it since they were stationed at a nearby farm outside of Williamsburg, Virginia. He never really wanted to since he knew what guns could do; it could end a person's life. For Stiles Stilinski, that mattered to him because guns were probably the only things that could kill his father and Stiles had been afraid to shoot one, but it didn't mean he was defenseless. For Mitch Rapp, using a gun was like a second skill to him. He adapted the skills faster than he had learned about special moves that could bring down an oponent. 

 

Yet, everything he thought about in his life before he became Mitch, it all turned out to be wrong. He wasn't meant to be in a Pack where everything was going to be so chaotic between all of them. He thanked them for that. He finally realized that he was meant to be an assassin. He never really thought of the term like that; an assassin; a killer. But things came to a surprise to him when he moved to Syracuse, New York. For years, he had lied about being bad at lacrosse. He wanted Scott to have the spotlight since his friend had asthma and it would be bad if Stiles turned out to be not what he said he is. He was okay with sitting on the bench for his best friend but he missed being out on the field.

 

Speaking of Scott McCall, Mitch is still pissed at him but he still respected the True Alpha. Even if they kicked him out of the Pack, he still kept tabs on them. Wondered if they were safe. His father would always reassure him that no one had died. Mitch understood why they kicked him out but the way they did it, it left a mentally and emotionally permanent scar on him. Mitch knew Scott meant well but it was already hard enough that your best friend tells you that you're weak.

 

His father, the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, never failed to remind him that he will always love Mitch whether he became a killer or a fugitive. Mitch needed that. He wanted to come back to Beacon Hills, to visit his father and maybe even cry in his arms because of the emotions that were hidden well inside of him, he wanted to know what his father had been up to. If he's in love, who's his new wife, if he's eating healthy, those questions remained unanswered after two months of doing physical work and nonstop missions that they were assigning him with.

 

Time passed and Mitch was left standing in front of the mirror with sweat beading down his forehead. He came back from a mission in Iraq. Shiaad Ishani was an uprising mercenary in Falluja who was hellbent on killing the CIA after executing each and every one of his men. He had a list of people to kill and Mitch had landed himself right at the top. Shiaad was not a very experienced gunman, but he was driven to the point where he thought he could get rid of every agent and assassin there is out there. Mitch had no problem emptying one bullet in his brain, but after killing Falluja's leader, they were all set to kill him also and it was damn near impossible for him to kill each and every one of them.

 

Stan Hurley came to the rescue, helping him with killing all of them off. If not for Stan, Mitch would've been dead before he could turn and run but after all, Stan would've probably left him to die since they weren't on very good terms with each other but still, Mitch looks up to him like Stiles looked up to his father. Mitch would always look up to his father and it would never change.

 

He grasped the thin fabric of his shirt and pulled it over his head, revealing his built body that he gained over the five years and caressed the purple greenish bruise on his ribs. He got it from getting hit a couple times by a baseball bat. Who knew that his signature weapon would be used against him? Again, he laughs slightly to himself with no humour lacing his voice but only slight desperation when the baseball bat actually meant something to him back then. 

 

“ _You're different, Rapp_.” Irene once said to him when she approached him by the wooden table that he would always sit at. “ _Very different indeed.”_

 

“ _How so?_ ” Mitch remembered asking when he traced the trigger of his gun with the tip of his finger. 

 

“ _Well, for one, you didn't even seem to break a sweat when you were going up against another agent._ ” She sat in front of him with a lopsided smile and this twinkle in her eyes that told him that she wanted more information about him, thinking that he was gonna slip within the conversation. “And also, you come from a very mysterious background.”

 

“ _And I'd love to keep it that way, Ms. Kennedy.”_ He replied with a smug grin that no one could wipe off his face, not even himself. He leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him. “ _Here's the deal, Ms. Kennedy, if you want information out of me, stop trying to interrogate me. At least have a formal conversation with me. You want information? Learn how to talk to a person without trying to look obvious that you're curious about them. And not that I could blame you, I'm quite curious myself. Sending Victor to beat my ass at the Farm did not go lightly by me, I would've been the one to shoot a bullet at his head if it weren't for your shrink. Now, unless you can have a real conversation with me and start by being patient, I need to go. There's some things I need to attend to and I don't need you holding me back._ ” 

 

It wasn't his fault that he became this stubborn, mysterious bastard who had a clean slate. Scott was actually right about something, he didn't fit in the Pack. So he decided to fit in somewhere else. The CIA. He left his childhood there, his identity, and he was finally out of there. He breathed fresh air as he stepped out of Beacon Hills, it was like heaven and suddenly, he didn't feel so threatened and hostile anymore. He finally had a release.

 

A shrill ringing went off, playing a ring tone that he hasn't heard in about a year or so. He knew who was calling since the only people he gave his new phone number to was his dad, Deputy Parrish and Melissa. He walked over to the counter and grabbed the cold electronic in his hands before answering the call. Hearing Parrish's voice again made him smile because it's been a long time since he's talked to the deputy and Mitch always considered as an older brother. Moving back to the bathroom where blood was now stained onto the floor, the sink and the counter, Mitch began to patch up his sewed wound on the opposite side of the bruise he got and taped it down to his skin. “Stiles,” the deputy's voice wavered and heavy that it sounded like the words were choked out of him.

 

“What is it, Parrish?” He asked with slight concern.

 

“It's your father.” He said. “He's been shot.”

 

Mitch furiously clenched his hand into a tight fist and bent down to rest his elbows on the counter. Sadness, concern and anger bubbled in him as he fought the yell that tried to tear his throat apart. “Is he okay?” He questioned. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest and the blood rushing in his ears. Please don't let him be dead, he repeated in his mind, no, he's not dead. 

 

“He's in a coma, Stiles. And it's bad, it's really bad.” Disconnecting the phone call without a goodbye, he threw the phone outside of the bathroom and screamed in frustration and anger. He pounded his palms onto the sink counter and punched the mirror, shattering the glass. He watched it fall down on the floor and in the sink, cutting his already bruised hand, and into the drain. Mitch looked up and saw that the center of the mirror was spiraled into a spiderweb from his fist. In the shattered mirror, he could see his reflection. A broken guy with a confident frame. His curly bang stuck itself onto his forehead, a split lip was visible, and a bruise on his left cheek.

 

This is who he is now.

 

But now Mitch Rapp had to disappear first and Stiles Stilinski had to come back. For the sake of his father.

 


	2. To Good To Be True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hopped into the passenger seat of his dad's old cruiser with Parrish as the driver and rests his forehead against the cold window. The wound throbbed painfully and he wished he could have some aspirin for the headache. It was a stupid idea for him to travel after coming back from a mission. As if he would let Shiaad Ishani live, there was no way in hell where he would let an asshole like Shiaad live after certain circumstances that happened in Fallujah. His father needed him now and that was all that matters.
> 
> “So, Stiles. How was life outside of Beacon Hills? Did you meet a girl, get married, have kids?” Parrish asked. Mitch shoved down the desire to shout out that his name is not Stiles anymore, instead he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and pictured Maureen in his mind.
> 
> “It was good, I guess.” He stated. “I did meet a girl. Her name was Mary and... um... we didn't get married but we always talked about having kids of our own.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter of 007 is up! Remember that nothing belongs to me, it belongs to the rightful owners, Vince Flynn & Jeff Davis. Please do not comment inappropriate things on the comment section, it's disrespectful. If you have anything bad to say about my writing, please exit out because last time I checked, you are not the author.
> 
> Sorry for being rude but I had to get that out there. Please ignore the grammatical error, I'll fix the mistakes I wrote later :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Mitch boarded the plane to Beacon Hills, California. He was hesitant to step into the plane, but he needed to go back home if he wanted to support his father. Explaining his father's mental state to his colleagues were hard, they wouldn't let him go without a backup but Mitch insisted that it should only be him. It would've been bad if two CIA Agents stepped into Beacon Hills which could already lead threats to their location. So, finally convincing them, they allowed him to go with only himself and no one else. 

 

He didn't want to go back to Beacon Hills. Unlike being a part of a counterterrorism group, Mitch never really wanted to be sucked into the supernatural, he didn't want to be dragged down with his friends. He wanted to get out of it as fast as possible for him and his father because he knew what being involved in the supernatural meant. It meant being like Derek. He nearly lost his whole family in the Hale Fire and Stiles can't make that happen. So, instead of staying in his hometown after getting kicked out of the Pack, he decided to leave. But it was selfish because he did not bring his father with him.

 

Not that Mitch would leave his father without announcing his departure, the Sheriff was too stubborn to leave and told Mitch that he should get a glimpse of a normal life. John Stilinski had set him free and Mitch couldn't help but feel grateful for his father. So, Rapp decided to repay him by visiting Beacon Hills.

 

He sank himself into the airline seat and adjusted himself to get comfortable. He ignored the man beside him who stared at him in a strange way before turning his head to the mirror. Mitch glanced down at the man's hand which had a fake golden Rolex strapped to his wrist and the hands weren't even moving. Shaking his head at the man, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, feeling himself fall into the darkness even more.

* * *

 

“ _You're thinking too much,” Maureen whispered to him as his eyes fluttered open with ease. Mitch tilted his head in a way that Mary would always giggle at and smiled, showing his pearly whites. Mary was sitting in front of him with her beautiful dirty blonde hair propped into a perfect bun with just a few strands of her hair cascading down to her shoulders. Her blue eyes pierced his golden ones with amusement._

 

 

_“Am I?” He asked, pulling the corner of his lips into a smile. “How would you know if I was thinking or not?”_

 

_Mary paused for a second and tapped her index finger on her chin to show him that she was thinking deeply about his question. “Well, you always scrunch up your nose in this very cute way that makes me fall for you even more. You furrow your thick eyebrows and you don't say anything for a minute. That's how I know.” She grabbed Mitch's right hand that was resting on the glass table and caressed his palm with her thumb which sent shivers down his spine._

 

_“What if I was just daydreaming with my eyes closed?”_

 

_Maureen snorted. To other men, it was quite disgusting to them but to Mitch, her snorts were like the sounds of angels. He knows it's cheesy but it was true, and he'd kill to have her snort every single day. “Maybe,” she hummed. “Maybe not. But if you were daydreaming, what did you dream about? Was it me?”_

 

_“No, it was our next door neighbor, Ms. Vontaine. She has quite the lovely body if I say so myself.” Mary was sent into fits of laughter after that statement, and Mitch couldn't help but make another one to hear her laugh even more. “Her appetite for desserts just makes her very attractive.” Her laugh faded after two minutes and finally gasped for breath as she stared at him with an angel smile._

 

_“I love you.”_

 

_“I love you too, Mary.”_

 

* * *

 

His eyes flew open as the flight attendant announced that they were landing in five minutes. He sighed deeply to himself, pulling himself up by the armrest and gave a nod to the man beside him. He unfastened his seat belt and massaged his forehead from the vigorous headache. He hated riding on planes, even if he traveled a lot, he was not immune. 

 

Waiting patiently for a few minutes, they were finally allowed to get off the plane. Mitch stood up, stretching his long legs and took out his luggage from the compartment that was above him. His weapons were in a brown leather duffel bag, it was extremely hard to hide the weapons when walking through a metal detector. He had his own tricks of his sleeves but he would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. 

 

He stepped out of the plane and walked into the small airport just outside of Beacon Hills, California. He wasn't expecting Parrish to be standing in the middle of the crowd, holding a poster that said his name on it. Well, the name that he used to be called by. _**Stiles Stilinski**_. Mitch laughed to himself and walked over, throwing on his cap. “Parrish.” Mitch said, catching the deputy's attention. Parrish looked at him in shock and smiled at his appearance. Damn, Mitch was actually the same height as him. 

 

Parrish was very happy to see Stiles, but he wasn't the same lanky kid he used to be. Five years was too long for the both of them and now they needed to catch up. They were all grown and old, Parrish actually stepped in as a temporary Sheriff until John makes a recovery. It felt very surreal to see his little surrogate brother in front of him, in fact, he poked Stiles' shoulder to see if he was real. 

 

Mitch laughed and smiled. “It's good to see you, Stiles.” Parrish spoke softly, bringing the man into a hug. Mitch froze for a second, he didn't think that Parrish would hug him and he winced when his reflexes almost reacted to someone touching him but he allowed himself to embrace the hug and relax. “It's not the same without you here. Me and your father misses your talkative mouth.” Patting his back awkwardly, they separated.

 

Mitch looked around, scanning the area for threats before realizing that it was all clear. He licked his bottom lip and walked in sync with Parrish. Being back in Beacon Hills created a very negative feeling for him, maybe because this is the place where the population kept dwindling and this is where his father almost died. He dismissed the feeling and pushed away the thoughts that were trying to burn into the back of his brain. He just needed to visit his dad, see if he's okay, and return to the CIA.

 

He hopped into the passenger seat of his dad's old cruiser with Parrish as the driver and rests his forehead against the cold window. The wound throbbed painfully and he wished he could have some aspirin for the headache. It was a stupid idea for him to travel after coming back from a mission. As if he would let Shiaad Ishani live, there was no way in hell where he would let an asshole like Shiaad live after certain circumstances that happened in Fallujah. His father needed him now and that was all that matters.

 

“So, Stiles. How was life outside of Beacon Hills? Did you meet a girl, get married, have kids?” Parrish asked. Mitch shoved down the desire to shout out that his name is not Stiles anymore, instead he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and pictured Maureen in his mind.

 

“It was good, I guess.” He stated. “I did meet a girl. Her name was Mary and... um... we didn't get married but we always talked about having kids of our own.”

 

“How come we never met her?”

 

“Well, she passed away two years ago.” He avoided Parrish's wave of sadness that radiated off of him. He was in no mood to see the pity because of his girlfriend's death. He didn't mean to act so rude towards Parrish with just slight gestures but he hated talking about Mary and everyone was so adamant on trying to fix him that he just started to avoid people like them altogether. 

 

Mary was a sore subject to him and he tried as hard as possible to keep his emotions from ever showing on his face. No one would want to talk about their dead girlfriends who died in a terrorist attack after having their plane blown up in Lockerbie, Scotland. Mitch was still coping with her death by having small flings and focusing his attention on the missions. Though, Mitch continued on like he never saw Parrish's face. “So, how's my dad? Did he wake up from the coma yet?”

 

“The doctors are still trying to figure out when he's going to wake up. It's still inevitable.” Mitch nodded silently, watching the blurs of building pass by them. He knew this neighborhood well since he'd always drive through when he's going to the Preserve. Mitch wondered how much everything changed. “Melissa is trying to do whatever she can to maintain his health by feeding him through the tubes.”

 

“Good, that's good.” He muttered, feeling his phone in his pocket vibrate against his thigh. Mitch ignored it and listened to the slight static of the radio with his eyes also darting from one place to another. “What about the others?”

 

“They're doing good, Stiles. They're stable and your father and I are apart of it.” Oh, Mitch said to himself, of course they'd let him be in the pack because he's a hell hound and his father is a sheriff. Mitch scratched the back of his neck and didn't say anything. Maybe they only got rid of the defenseless ones. Lydia wasn't defenseless, she had her screams; Allison had her bows; and his father had guns. Back then, Mitch only had his wit and sarcasm. It's not a perfect combination but that was his defense mechanism. Now, look how the tables have turned; Mitch had his knives, his 9mm beretta, his super kickass fighting skills, and his brain. That's what you call a perfect combination for an assassin. “Scott is married to Kira, Allison is married to Isaac, you know the drill. Derek is married to Braeden, and Liam and Malia are married. Lydia is expecting her first child with Jackson and also, Melissa and your father are also married.” 

 

Mitch bobbed his head along as Parrish began to describe how their Pack became stronger as years passed by and had to bit back a scoff when Jordan said that Scott and the Pack misses him. He wanted to laugh. Anyone would be stupid to miss him, that was the honest truth. Right now, Mitch didn't say anything about his new name or his occupation but he did tell Parrish that he left that life years ago, he wouldn't care if the Pack missed him or not. He was very intense for a 24 year old like himself and never followed the rules very well. Hence disobeying every rule that his father had set up when he learned about the supernatural.

 

There was still a bit of Stiles Stilinski left in him. Only a speck that could be seen with a microscope and not the human eye. 

 

Feeling the car come to a stop, Mitch didn't bother to send a small smile to Parrish but he muttered a thanks as he was dropped off at the hospital. “I'll leave your luggage in your home.” Parrish drove away leaving Mitch look up at the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital sign. He hated hospitals very much, down to his core. 

 

He walked in with a waver in his breath and felt the cool air whip at his skin. He headed to the front desk and asked where his father was. The woman was new and didn't know him—thank the lords—but pointed at the very first door on the right. He smiled at her and stood in front of the window, looking at his father's body that laid on the hospital with tubes sticking out of him. 

 

He musters the strength to walk in and closed the door behind him. He sauntered towards the hospital bed and brought a chair closer so he could sit down and keep him company. Grabbing his father's hand and held it to his chin, he let out a breathless sigh as a tear rolled down his cheek. “You still got me, dad.” He whispered, nuzzling his head against his father's hand and closed his eyes.

 

_You still got me._


	3. Don't Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul Cooke had managed to return to his secretive office on the outskirts of Paris. For once, he finally had the confidence to walk into the meeting including Paul Fournier and Max Vega. The meeting was quite interesting if he had said so himself, but what really intrigued him is knowing the name of the American Assassin that he had guaranteed to kill. After paying three million dollars in advance, he had the American Assassin in the palm of his hands, including Thomas Stanfield; a man he had a grudge ever since he had over passed him as the CIA Operations Director, Cooke knew that the title had always belonged to him, not Stanfield, not anyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: SPOILER ALERT! 
> 
> This goes into the second book, "Kill Shot," if you have not read it then please exit out. If you don't mind spoilers then continue on! 
> 
> Remember that nothing belongs to me! It belongs to Vince Flynn & Jeff Davis!

Paul Cooke had managed to return to his secretive office on the outskirts of Paris. For once, he finally had the confidence to walk into the meeting including Paul Fournier and Max Vega. The meeting was quite interesting if he had said so himself, but what really intrigued him is knowing the name of the American Assassin that he had guaranteed to kill. After paying three million dollars in advance, he had the American Assassin in the palm of his hands, including Thomas Stanfield; a man he had a grudge ever since he had over passed him as the CIA Operations Director, Cooke knew that the title had always belonged to him, not Stanfield, not anyone else.

 

The picture of the American Assassin was pinned to the wall with his name just printed right below it. Cooke could know take advantage of the assassin and turn him against the CIA. Samir hadn't really been helpful with finding out the identity of the American but now that he has the name and the picture, it was time to get his plan set up but first, he had to leak out their identities to the public so every government officials and every goddamned law enforcements there is in the world could hunt the American with him. But it wasn't only gonna be the american; Stan Hurley will be one of them. 

 

He stared at the picture with a curl of his corner lips that displayed a very mischievous look on his face. “Mr. Cooke?” His bodyguard asked, sticking his head through the opening between the door and the doorway. The traitor whipped his body around to narrow his eyes at the bodyguard who had the guts to interrupt him without knocking but the expression on the bodyguard rose his curiosity by another level. “There's someone here to see you.”

 

“May I ask, who is it?”

 

“He goes by the name Victor, he's requesting for you.”

 

Paul decided for a second before nodding his head, “let him in.” He demanded and faced his back towards the bodyguard who gave permission to Victor to step inside Cooke's rather large office. “What can you tell me about this Mitch Rapp, apart from the fact that he works for the CIA.”

 

Victor scoffed. “Please, the little fucker doesn't work for the CIA. He's Kennedy's boytoy. Aside from him being an arrogant, cocky little bastard, he's killed more than a few innocent people and we should eliminate him. Rapp needs to be killed and I'd happily be the one to volunteer and stick a bullet into his hollowed brain.” He lied thoroughly but he was telling the truth about wanting kill him. He wanted nothing more than to see blood pool from Rapp's brain and to stain the concrete floor or a carpet with his blood. He also wanted Irene Kennedy dead. He'd be lucky if he had a clean shot on both of them.

 

“As much as I'd love to experience that, Victor, I'm afraid I have to postpone your little deal for awhile. Apparently something has come up and I need to take matters into my own hands.”

 

“Why not?” Victor growled, dangerously. “The dickhead needs to be taught a lesson, and the lesson ends with him and his brains decorating the floor. You want that bastard dead as much as I do, let me have a shot at him and I will kill him.”

 

“Don't think I checked into your file, Victor. You have failed to kill Mitch Rapp once, how will I know if you won't fail the second time?”

 

“You don't, if I do then I'll try again!”

 

“For a man with such aggressive behavior against Rapp, you lie so much about wanting to kill him but you just never seem to succeed. Why is that? I need someone who's willing to do the job because it depends on it, not by the act of aggression. You're too blinded by your hatred for him, maybe it's why your skills are such a disappointment to me. 

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You rely so much on your anger, not your brain.” Cooke rephrased it, getting on every last nerve of Victor. “If you want to kill Mitch Rapp, do it with pride. He is the one who placed seven bullets into you after you outed me to the CIA.”

 

Victor looked over Cooke's shoulder and felt his fingers twitched as the face of his enemy stared him right back in the eyes motionlessly. He could feel and see it now, watching the life slowly drain of out of Mitch Rapp while he hovered over his body with a gun in head. Now he had the chance to kill him without Irene Kennedy or Stan Hurley breathing down his neck, he had Paul Cooke who wanted to kill him too.

 

And what was that saying again? The enemy of my enemy is _my friend_... 

 

* * *

 

Mitch decided to leave the hospital after sunrise. He couldn't risk Melissa seeing him or bumping into any Pack members who were also coming to see his dad, he was surprised that he still kept the necklace that was used to mask his scent from the Pack before leaving Beacon Hills. He wore it and escaped out of the window, leaving no evidence that he had been there to visit his father. 

 

Mitch threw on his blue plain baseball cap and headed down main street to a neighborhood that he was most familiar with. It was the neighborhood that Scott lived in, so debating on whether to go through or take a walk behind the neighborhood, he turned the heel of his foot around and walked the opposite direction. He walked to the direction where his old house was at. 

 

Getting dragged into the deepest part of his mind, Mitch zoned out as he directed himself to the house without any visual of what he was doing. Hurley and Kennedy weren't fond with the idea of letting the killer they forged, loose into the small town of Beacon Hills—which they know nothing about since they were only familiar with parts of California and foreign states—instead of searching for Cooke and Victor who had escaped containment days ago. 

 

He wanted to go back to the CIA and pretended that he never arrived in Beacon Hills but his father is his top priority, especially when Cooke has his identity stashed somewhere that could probably end his career once and for all. Popping his neck joints, he folded his sleeves up to the elbows, first the right and then the left. Biting back the habit to pop his knuckles, he set out towards the asphalt pavement on the left on the side of the road which was in construction. Mitch examined the construction workers, they were sweating, working their asses off but he could see their tensed shoulders and their un-relaxing form which told him that they knew about the animal attack that happened in these very woods. He shook his head at their stupidity for ever repairing another road and ignored them. 

 

He spotted the house a few feet away and decided to pick up his speed, sprinting towards the building he used to call his home. He took a large turn and jumped up the stairs, skipping only four before planting both the bottom of his feet flatly on the porch. His luggages were sitting by the rocking chair a few feet from his right and a key that rested on top of his brown leather duffel bag. He picked up the post-it note beside it.

 

_Your father changed the lock a few years ago. Thought you might need one so I gave you mine._

_\- Parrish._

 

Mitch grinned to himself and licked his bottom lip, injecting the key into the keyhole and turned it to the right before hearing the lock click. He twisted it back again to the center and took out the key, opening the door to be met with the darkness of the inside. It still smelt like cinnamon and cherry blossoms which were an unusual combination of scents. He walked in and closed the door behind him with his Achilles heel and placed his luggages down. 

 

Nothing was changed.

 

5 years and his father didn't have the heart to move stuff around. He felt a pang in his chest area, knowing that the guilt struck him hard as he thought about it. He abandoned his father when he needed him the most and Mitch could barely wrap his head around the fact that he was a bad son. 

 

Mitch had his eye caught by a picture that was propped up beside the lamp that his mother had bought about fifteen years ago before her death. He sauntered to the picture and picked it up with his hand, smiling when it showed a picture of Melissa, his father and... Scott. Then on the other picture was a picture of Scott and Kira. He put the picture down slowly and scanned the area again.

 

I don't belong here, nausea hit him in waves, sending vigorous headaches when he figured it out. His father did not live here anymore, Scott did. Clenching his jaw tightly, realizing that Parrish had set him up at Scott's house sent him into a really pissed mode. Mitch stood back and pulled the ends of his hair, growling in frustration. He picked up his luggages and bolted at the house, setting out for another long walk ahead of him.

 

* * *

 

_“You're cute when you're mad, you know.” Mary said, trailing her soft hands down his chest to his v-line. Her nails tickled his skin and every time she always dragged it up gently, his skin would twitch under her touch and shivers would be sent down his spine and goosebumps formed on his body. That's how much Mary affected him with the slightest touch and it drove him crazy._

 

_“Cute? I don't live for cute, Mary, I live for danger,” Mary giggled, shaking her head to every word that Mitch had said and wrapped her hand loosely around his waist. “I don't think girls will find me attractive if I'm just cute.”_

 

_“What girls?” Mary teased, earning a nudge from Mitch. She laughed and kissed his chest, “they'll find you attractive, Mitch. I mean, you can have any girl you want without trying.” She mumbled. She hated discussing things like this with him. It always made her feel like he was going to abandon her for someone much prettier and better._

 

_Feeling the slight deflation in Mary's energetic mood, Mitch wrapped his arms tightly around Mary and kissed her forehead. “I don't care about those other girls, sweetheart. You're the only girl that I want. And you're beautiful, baby, stop doubting yourself. I'd never leave you for anyone. Not ever.”_

 

_“Promise?” She whispered._

 

_“Promise.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Famous last words, huh? 

 

Mitch erased the memory from his mind and checked into a motel not far from any of the neighborhoods. He grabbed the key from the front desk and headed to his room, shocked at how inside of the motel rooms were cleaner than the outside. He tossed the room key on the table and locked the door. He threw off his jacket and zipped open his brown leather duffel bag, revealing weapons and manila folders that held every important information. 

 

He took out the manila folder, tab reading PAUL COOKE, and flipped it open. He sat down in the wooden chair at the kitchen table and took out his pen, writing something in.

 

PAUL COOKE - YOU'RE NEXT.

 

He ripped the bottom page off and took out a white unsealed envelope and stuck the note in along with his picture in it. He licked to flap and stuck it the envelope, writing Paul Cooke's name on the front in neat cursive writing. He wrote down the address to Cooke's office and walked out, placing it in a drop-off mailbox near the motel. 

 

He returned to his motel room and laid on the bed, contemplating on whether he should reveal himself to the Pack and his father or he should just remain in the shadows and leave when his father wakes up.

 

He closes his eyes, sleeping for another twelve hours and a half.


	4. Impenetrable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greta came into mind. Mitch thought he'd moved on from Mary—but never actually did—and Greta helped him get his mind off her. Greta never knew his high school sweetheart when he moved to Syracuse when he was only 18 and he wanted to keep it that way. Mitch didn't want Greta to think that he was just using her. But Greta; she's beautiful. Blonde hair and green eyes. He grinned to himself when he realized he had a type.
> 
> Greta was a stunning woman, she never ceased to amaze him every time they hooked up once in awhile. They have known each other for about a year and a half then began dating. He was in love with her and still is but she deserved someone who'd love her more than he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a long time since I've updated but I wanted you guys to know that I already have five other chapters that are written up and will be later published in the future. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Mitch laid in bed with thoughts filling his mind. His father is in the hospital because of a bullet that had been able to pierce through his vest and wriggle it's way into the inside of his body. The damage had affected his father to be in a coma that could be permanent for the rest of his life. Maybe if he had visited earlier then this would all be prevented but maybe it was a sign. He didn't know which one it was, last time he encountered a sign, he left his previous life behind him. 

 

Rapp turned his bed on his side, exhaling through his mouth and breathing in through his nose. He stared at the dark far corner in the motel room, more questions swirling in his mind when he thought about being back home. Home. That felt like a foreign word to him when he said it. He's never really had a home until he met Mary but after her death, he's been traveling for years. 

 

Greta came into mind. Mitch thought he'd moved on from Mary—but never actually did—and Greta helped him get his mind off her. Greta never knew his high school sweetheart when he moved to Syracuse when he was only 18 and he wanted to keep it that way. Mitch didn't want Greta to think that he was just using her. But Greta; she's beautiful. Blonde hair and green eyes. He grinned to himself when he realized he had a type.

 

Greta was a stunning woman, she never ceased to amaze him every time they hooked up once in awhile. They have known each other for about a year and a half then began dating. He was in love with her and still is but she deserved someone who'd love her more than he would. 

 

* * *

 

“ _What brings you here, Mr. Rapp?” The psychologist asked with a notebook in one hand and a pen in the other. Her right leg was crossed over her left one, and slowly moved her right leg side to side in small movements. Mitch looked up and straightened himself with bloodshot eyes and a neutral expression on his face._

 

_“My girlfriend,” Mitch replied, wincing to himself when he couldn't even say her name without feeling any emotion build up in himself. “I'm here because of the death of my girlfriend.” He said, loud and clearly. The psychologist nodded and wrote down some of her notes on the paper._

 

_“How did her death make you feel?” She asked._

 

_Mitch gave a look to the therapist, wondering how a person would ask such a question. “How did you think it made me feel?” He snaps at her, never regretting the words that came out of his mouth. It wasn't even about five minutes in the first session and he was totally pissed. “You wanna know how I feel? I feel like an emotional wreck! I lost my fucking girlfriend in a terrorist attack and I don't know what to goddamn do! I can't plan her funeral because there was no body left to have a funeral? So, tell me, how did it make me feel?”_

 

_“This is good, Mr. Rapp. Release your anger and your frustration,” the lady said._

 

_Mitch felt his jaw tick in rage, he wanted to bolt through that door and punch someone in the face. “You don't want to see what I do when I release my anger, lady. Trust me, it won't be pretty.” He grits out._

 

* * *

 

 

Mitch rubbed his eyes in exhaustion, rolling out of the bed and onto his two feet. He had to visit his father again, see how he's doing but he knew that he would run into Melissa some day. So walking to his bag with his clothes stuffed in, he changed into blue jeans and a green long-sleeved shirt that Mary bought him before her death (his outfit is the one Dylan is wearing in the promo picture). Mitch stepped out into the cold air, not shivering once when it whipped at his skin violently, and walked to the hospital in peace. 

 

Meanwhile, Scott and Kira walked into the hospital with a new flower pot in hand as they greeted the doctors who were tending the Sheriff. It was horrible about what happened and they were still upset about the fact that Stiles hadn't come home when his father was shot down. They were waiting for him to come back but he never did. But they didn't get their hopes down, when they come in, the front desk told them that someone came to visit the Sheriff last night and it could've been Stiles.

 

Kira nudged his shoulder gently with a small reassuring smile. “Don't worry, Scott. Stiles will be back, I know it. He loves his father too much and I know he wouldn't just ignore that his father is in the hospital.” Scott planted a kiss on Kira's forehead and stepped into the room where his step-father was now laying in. He felt awful. If it wasn't for Derek, John would've been dead. 

 

“I just miss him, Kira.” Scott said. “I miss him like hell.”

 

“I know.” Kira grabbed the pot from Scott's hand and sat it down on the table beside the hospital bed, she was careful enough to make sure that she didn't make any noise while settling it down. “Come on, let's go get breakfast. I don't want you to starve before the Sheriff wakes up.” Scott chuckled at his wife, wondering how lucky he is to have her. They walked out of the room and headed towards the cafeteria. 

 

Mitch walked down the hallway, fixing the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't see Scott and Kira walk down to the cafeteria or the fact that Melissa was staring at him in shock from far away, all he could think about was his father and it killed him when he thought about his father's mental state. It was possible that John Stilinski could flatline at any second now and Mitch dreaded the thought even more.

 

He let the peacefulness sink into him as he took a seat in one of the chairs, grasping his father's hand. “Hey, dad.” Mitch whispered, tightening his grip on his father. “I'm back. I'm back home, dad.” He whispered in a heartbroken statement. “Please, wake up. I need you to right now or else I-- I don't know what I would do but I need you to wake up right now.”

 

He pleaded silently, feeling the tears streak down his face. His bottom lip quivered, tears freely ran down his face, and a sob was sitting at the back of his throat. He stifled the small sob and began to talk to his father like he was listening. “Ever wondered how it was like before the supernatural or before mom died?” He asked, leaning towards the bed and rested his elbows on his knees, “where everything was just perfect? Because I did. I wondered so freakin' much but the memories never came back to me.

 

“And you were right, dad. I killed mom. That's all I ever do. I kill people. And I'm sorry that I killed mom, I'm so fucking sorry. I just—I can't stand seeing you in a hospital bed like mom did when she was ill, I don't want to see you slowly die because of my thousandth mistake. I'm sorry for being such a screw up.”

 

He doesn't register the twitch of his father's fingers, but he just kept spilling out his emotions that he kept bottled up inside him for all these years. “And I did the same with Mary. I killed her, dad. I couldn't save her.” Gasping for breath, he wiped the tears off of his face which was useless because fresh new tears fell. “I know how it feels to lose the person you love and it hurts. When you watch them take their last breath, you start to lie to yourself. You start to realize that you won't hear their voices again after how many times you cry and plead for it. You can't hold them like you used to, you can't kiss them, and you can't tell them how much you loved them. 

 

“But with Mary, I didn't see her die. I heard to learn from the news that she died from a plane accident. Do you know how sick that is? Learning from the media than from anyone else? I think it sucks as hell. I couldn't see her face again and I couldn't tell her goodbye. We always talked about getting married, you know? Having our own kids and spending our lives together but we never once discussed about losing each other. I wasn't ready to hear her name as one of the victims in that goddamn plane crash. I wasn't ready to lose her. 

 

“And I need you to wake up and tell me that it wasn't my fault. I lost mom, I lost Mary, Heather, Erica and Boyd, I can't lose you too. I won't. So please wake up, dad. I love you.”

 

That time was when he really felt like the teenage boy he used to be. He couldn't deal with the emotional heartbreak of losing another person that he loves, he also couldn't deal with the fact that he was about to lose the one person that he's depended on since he was a child. He felt vulnerable, usually he would scoff at himself in disgust, but right now, it was the time where being vulnerable was really needed.

 

“You still got me, son.” His father croaked out, giving his son a strained smile. 

 

Mitch gasped in shock, ignoring the tears that fell, and jolted up in his seat, hugging his father tightly. His father groaned and chuckled in amusement. “I'm so sorry, dad.” He sniffled. John rubbed his back and smiled.

 

“You don't have to apologize, kiddo. I'm not leaving you any time soon.”

 

“But I do.” Mitch pulled back from the hug and sat back down in the chair. “I should've came back earlier.”

 

“I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to leave Beacon Hills, Stiles. I'm glad you chose to get out of here before I did and I'm proud of you. Son, if there's anything that I've learned in the past few years while spending my time here as Sheriff; you would've been lucky if you escaped this town.”

 

Mitch smiled. “And I have you to thank for that.” He said.

 

Something crashed behind them and Mitch whipped his head back, being faced to face with Scott McCall and Kira Yukimura. Mitch offered them a small smile and all he got was a stutter in response. “Heya, Scotty.” He said, and greeted Kira. “You too, Mrs. McCall.” Kira blushed and walked over, hugging Stiles tightly. 

 

“I knew you'd come back, Mr. Stilinski.” Kira whispered into his ear before stepping back for Scott and Stiles to have their reunion. 

 

“You came.” Scott said.

 

Mitch laughed. “Well, I couldn't really leave my dad in a hospital bed after getting shot. Someone has to be there monitoring his health.” Mitch teased, looking back at his father. He feels himself getting tackled by Scott, who was slightly shorter than him by three inches and patted his back awkwardly. 

 

“It's good to have you back, Stiles.”

 

“Yeah....” Stiles muttered. “It's good to be back.”

 


	5. Toxic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and the Pack finally reunites.

“You're not angry with me, are you, Stiles?” Scott asked in a small voice as they sat opposite sides away from each other. Kira was clinging onto Scott's arm with her resting on his shoulders. Mitch barely recognized the name that Scott called him but decided to ignore it because it was Scott McCall, he was unaware of his new name.

 

“No.” He answered truthfully, avoiding his gaze to stare at one of the cafeteria staff prepare a meal for one of their patients in the hospital. “I just didn't want to face you.” He admitted. He popped his neck joint and looked over to Scott who gaped at him. Even if he grew older, Scott still had the same puppy dog face that Mitch couldn't resist back then. But now, he was cold and intense. Nothing will work on him, especially Scott's puppy face. “There's a difference between getting angry and not wanting to look you in the face. A huge difference.”

 

Scott changed the subject and played with his wedding ring on his ring finger. “Was your father getting shot the only thing that brought you back, Stiles?” He choked out, “was he the only person who could bring you back home?”

 

“Honey, your eyes are glowing.” Kira whispered to him as a slight red glow of Scott's eyes flickered. Taking a deep breath, Scott returned his eyes back to normal and gave Mitch a lopsided smile. Scott didn't know what to say to his best friend after he left for five years. The teenage boy that Scott McCall was friends with in high school and in grade school was not the same guy who returned. By the looks of Stiles, he had grown taller. He was taller than Scott by three inches, his hair was curly and slightly long to where it reached to his chiseled jaw. He gained some serious muscles as if he's been working out a lot. Stiles' eyes held this cold stare but there was a bit of anger hidden in there. 

 

Over the years, Scott had adapted the skill of reading people but Stiles was a closed book. He didn't give any feeling other than anger and it irked Scott. Something changed within Stiles but Scott had to find out later, right now, he needed Stiles to trust him. 

 

He knows that Stiles doesn't hate him but he didn't trust him and Scott was overly determined to get his best friend's trust back. He was brought back to reality when he heard Stiles' voice answer his question. “I'm gonna be truthful with you, Scott.” He responded in a light tone. “If my dad didn't get shot in the line of fire, I wouldn't be here. As much as I would love to visit my dad, I can't. I walked out of Beacon Hills because I wanted a normal life, I didn't want to get dragged back into this. No matter what the cause.”

 

“We're all bound to get dragged down again, Stiles.” Kira said.

 

“That's what I'm afraid of.” Mitch rubbed his eyes, yawning loudly and sighed afterwards. 

 

“Stiles, look. If you want out of this supernatural business forever, then please attend the Pack Meeting tonight. They deserve to know that you're here too. If they finally received information that you're okay, then they'll stop worrying about you and they will leave you alone.” Scott replied. “I promise.”

 

Mitch leaned back in his chair and took an interest in his shoes. If he attended the Pack Meeting tonight then it would toss him back into the supernatural world. “I can't, Scott.” He whispered. “It's not my place to attend a meeting where I was never involved in the first place. I was just the tag along, okay? Let's keep it that way.”

 

“Don't say that, Stiles!” Scott snapped.

 

Mitch looked up and rolled his eyes. “We both know I was, Scott. There's no shame in admitting that I was but I changed now, it's not gonna hurt my feelings.” He laughed dryly, and got up, pushing back the chair with a squeak. “Anyways, I have to go back now. There's a certain that I arrive and leave when I visit my father, and that time is now. I'll see you later, buddy.” 

 

“Where do you live?” Kira asked.

 

“I'm just staying the week at a motel before I leave.” He said. “If you guys want, you can invite the Pack over to the lacrosse field at our old high school. I'll be there during the mornings so you might catch me there.”

 

“If you need a place to stay, Stiles, you can always come home.” Scott told him.

 

“You mean your home.” Mitch corrected. “My home is in Syracuse.” 

 

“Syracuse, New York? That's where you've been for the past five years you've been gone?” Scott questioned.

 

Mitch shook his head. “To be exact, Syracuse was once my home. I don't know what to call my home anymore since I travel around the world,” killing terrorists, “and never thought to go back there,” when Mary died. “It's a miracle that I have some time off.”

 

Scott nodded silently and stood up, giving one last hug to Mitch who didn't responded, and realized that it was his time to let go. “Come by the house later, Stiles. Our daughter, Nia, she needs to meet her uncle.” Mitch pursed his lips. He should've never come, it's what he's been telling himself for hours now, and now that he hears that his best friend has a daughter, he couldn't put their family in danger.

 

He'd only kill them.

 

Stepping back from the married couple, he shook his head. “I'm sorry.” He apologized. “I have to go.” He bolted out of the hospital and ran to the motel that was a couple of miles away from the hospital but he didn't stop, for every mile he ran, he ran faster.

 

-

 

“ _Pan Am Flight 103 is landing in five minutes. Pan Am Flight 103 is landing in five minutes.” Mitch jumped up to his feet as his girlfriend was finally coming back. They talked on the phone for a few hours and every time they did, they'd sleep on the phone with the call still going on. Mitch really missed Mary and he couldn't wait to see her again._

 

_A loud explosion shook the building and Mitch looked up to see one of the planes, outside the building, explode as something hit it or something went off in it. “Attention all civilians, evacuate the building immediately! Pan Am Flight 103 is down! I repeat, Pan Am Flight 103 is down!” Mitch felt the blood rush to his ears as he ran the opposite direction to where the crowd was running out._

 

_While they ran towards the exit, he ran towards the direction of the explosion. “Mary!” He yelled as he ran out of the building. “No, Mary!”_

 

_“You can't be here, son. This is a secured area!” One of the police guards grab onto his arm and he turned around, grabbing the arm that grabbed him. “You can't be here!” the man exclaimed sternly._

 

_“My girlfriend was in that flight!” He yelled. “Keep your damn hands off of me!”_

 

_“Well, your girlfriend is dead, sir! If you don't step away from the premises, we will have to restrain you. Get out of here.” He demanded. Mitch never budged, instead he stared deadly into his eyes. “Go or do I have to put it through your goddamn head?”_

 

_“Daniel!” His friend said, pushing him off Mitch. “This guy just lost his girlfriend, show him a little respect!” He turned his head to look at Mitch, “I'm sorry for your loss, son. What was the name of your girlfriend so we could place her name as one of the victims in a terrorist attack.”_

 

_He paled. “A terrorist attack?” His voice wavered as tears spilled from his eyes. “Are you saying that someone purposely blew up the plane my girlfriend was in for the pleasure of it?!”_

 

_“Three hundred people lost their lives, young man, you are not the only person who lost a loved one in the attack. I get what you're feeling is anger and shit but innocent people died in there too.”_

 

_“I know,” he gritted, “five of my friends were boarding that plane. Five! Six if you're including my girlfriend. Now let me go or I swear I'll make this harder than it has to be. Please... just let me say goodbye to her one last time.” The two men looked at each other before they nodded defeatedly and let him through. Mitch couldn't make it five steps without collapsing to the ground on his knees as his sobs shook his body. “Mary,” he cried, “I love you, Mary.”_

 

-

 

Mitch woke up the next day and left his duffel bag under the bottom of his motel bed as he dressed up in his Nike workout attire with running shoes. He placed his black cap over his head and headed to the lacrosse field that was another few miles away. He didn't mind running for a good thirty minutes because it calmed him. His legs didn't hurt as much as it used to when he was in high school but he could maintain a steady breath for a few hours of running until he reaches the fifth or fourth hour he's been running.

 

He walked onto the very green grass of the lacrosse field. A lot of things happened in this lacrosse field but he'd rather not speak about it, he took off his cap and threw it to the side and began to do about a hundred push ups and a hundred curl ups, then started jogging around the huge field.

 

He did it for a good fifty minutes when cars started to park into the school driveway. Mitch stopped and breathed heavily, watching as the people piled out of their automobiles. “I thought you said that Stiles was here!” Lydia's irritated voice filled the air and went to his ear and then out the other. 

 

“That is Stiles!” Scott said.

 

“That's a six foot man with serious build. Stiles does not look like that.” Mitch bit his lip and scoffed. Of course Lydia would think that he'd be the same pathetic lanky kid he was five years ago. Of course it'd be her to insult him because he grew up. As much as Stiles loved Lydia, she gets on his nerves some time. “That man is sexy. Seriously, he makes the workout attire look good.”

 

“Really, Lydia? You should know that a guy like me would change in the next five years or so. Did you think I was gonna stay the same?” Mitch didn't mean to sound rude but he wasn't good with showing different emotions except a bored, amusing, irritated tone. 

 

Lydia stopped as she heard his voice once again. “Oh my god,” she breathed out. “I didn't mean to say it like that, Stiles. I just—I'm sorry, I was just doubting Scott that you were actually here.” Her voice cracked as she walked towards him. He flinched and took a step back. She paused and let her hands down. “Stiles, you okay?”

 

“I'm fine.” 

 

Lydia nodded, not believing him for a second.

 

 


	6. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pack learns that Stiles has a true love but they find out that she's dead and he's miserable.

"Where have you been?" Allison asked. She had her quiver strapped to her back and her bow slinging off her shoulder knowing that she was gonna shoot some arrows for training. Mitch scratched at his scruff and shrugged his shoulders like he, himself, didn't know where he's been either. "You've been gone for years."

 

"I'm aware," Mitch countered. "That was my plan."

 

"But why?" Jackson asked. Jackson returned to Beacon Hills after getting a call from Lydia who had said that Stiles had went missing. After those years of coming back to Beacon Hills, Jackson and Lydia fell in love once again, and decided to get married after they graduated high school. All of them had gotten married to their high school sweethearts but Mitch was the odd one out, he didn't have a ring present on his finger, no children. He just smelt like death and gun powder. 

 

Mitch was a mystery to them. They couldn't figure him out, only the slight moves of his tensed stance but nothing about him gave any information about him. All they could see is the anger, the coldness and the sheer determination in his eyes. "Just felt like it," he said. "Beacon Hills is the hellmouth that most people stay away from. I tend to be one of those people. I didn't come here because of you guys, I came here because my father needed me."

 

Before anyone could say anything, the phone in Mitch's pocket rings, disrupting the terrible silence that took over them. Mitch fished out his phone and looked at the ID caller, sucking in a breath and answered it in front of the Pack. "Why are you calling me on my phone?" He answered harshly. "I thought it was against protocols."

 

"Hello to you too, Rapp." Irene sighed through the phone. Mitch looked over at the supernatural gang and moved away from them to get some privacy. "I know that this is a bad time to be calling you but we need you."

 

"Whats going on?" Mitch asked. 

 

"You know your lovely friend, Victor? He's planning to blow up a school just to get your attention." Mitch quirked a brow and leaned against the tree, watching as his former friends talk amongst each other.

 

"He could've just killed someone, that would've gotten my attention." He rolled his eyes at Victor's intense vendetta against him, threatening to kill 300 students and a few teachers in the school that was going to be pinned to him later. "You know, when I told Stan to get his students in line, he should've done it. Now we have about three hundreds death that's gonna be in our hands. Mine, mostly."

 

"Mitch, you know he feels guilty." Irene told him. "I thought you'd be over it."

 

"Well, it seems I'm not.” He could hear the disappointment and irritation seep into her sigh as she released it from the depth of her throat. He wanted to forgive Stan, but if it wasn't for him, Mitch wouldn't have put seven bullets in his body, while shooting his bullet into Victor's crotch. “Is there any way you could approach Victor without revealing yourselves? Or do I have to do what I did last time because your men weren't following instructions?”

 

“Mitch,” Irene warned. “Careful what you say on these types of electronic devices, spies can track wherever you are and we both know how that ended.” Mitch pinched the bridge of his nose with a grunt and planted his foot on the surface of the tree with his knee bent. “But fortunately, burner phones work best when you're trying to make a call.”

 

“Not unless someone is watching you from afar and getting the signal from about thirty feet away.” Mitch added, glaring at Derek who's eyebrows popped up in surprise. “Come on, Kennedy. As much as I want to leave here, I can't. My father needs me and if I leave, he might be in more danger.”

 

“The werewolves are not the ones you should be afraid of.”

 

Mitch looked surprise and shook his head. “The werewolves are not on the top of my list of things I need to take care of. How the hell did you know about werewolves anyways?” He questioned.

 

“It's the CIA,” Irene said. “We've had encounters with the supernatural since the beginning we banded. All the way to World War I.”

 

Mitch rolled his eyes. “Back to the subject.” He hissed. “Last time I told your recruits specifically to stay in the shadows while I fucking scoped out the building. Where do they end up after they disobeyed my orders? They're lying on the ground with bullet holes covering every inch of their body.”

 

“Maybe because you're not their leader.” Irene fired at him. “I am and what I say, they listen. It's not your place to make the decisions, it's your job to find the terrorists and kill them, Mitch. You and my recruits have just gotten on bad terms.”

 

“Well, maybe you can tell them to stop holding me back. Oh... wait, you can't because your orders got them killed.”

 

“I get that you're angry that I'm dragging you back here but your father is fine, I just checked his records and he was checked out of the hospital. Do not put the blame on me. You have twenty-four hours to head back for the mission.” Mitch ended the call and threw the burner phone on the ground, stomping on it until it's broken in pieces. 

 

“What was that about?” Lydia asked when Mitch approached them with an angered look on his face. Mitch wanted to punch something badly but he had to refrain himself because Lydia was the one closer to him than any of the Pack. Mitch looked at Lydia and couldn't help but smile lightly at her; she always had that aura around her that made him smile. Don't get him wrong, he's moved on from Lydia since junior year but she was his best friend before all of this shit happened. 

 

“My manager.” He lied but his heart didn't skip a beat. “She told me I had to leave in twenty-four hours if I wanted get a promotion.”

 

“You're leaving?” Isaac asked. “Again?”

 

Mitch's eyes darted to Isaac's figure and stepped back. “My father is in good condition now. He doesn't need me anymore. He has you guys. But this is important right now. As much as I would hate to admit it but work is important but it's not my first priority. I want to stay, I really do but I have to go.”

 

“Wait, Stiles.” Derek called. “Who is she?” Mitch tilted his head in confusion at Derek's question. Did Derek eavesdrop on his conversation? He still didn't know because the past four years never really revolved around the supernatural and he was quite rusty on the eyebrow language that Derek kept sending him, so instead of saying anything, he stood there. “A picture fell out your pocket with the image of a woman. Who is she?”

 

“Mary,” Mitch feigned a blank expression as he said her name but his heart ache terribly and his fingers twitched unwillingly. 

 

“Who was she to you?” Allison asked.

 

Mitch grabbed the picture out of Derek's hand and looked over at the beautiful features of the girl he was still in love with. The emotions took over him and they could see his vulnerability. He looked up and took out his wallet, setting the picture in the picture pocket. “She was my fiancee.” He said slowly.

 

“Where's your ring?” Malia furrowed her brows.

 

“Was,” Mitch repeated clearly, “she was my fiancee. Until someone decided to take her life.” Everyone's gasped filled the air and Mitch didn't look at the pity they were showing. “Including the five friends who were my best buddies that year.” He said.

 

“We're sorry for your loss.” Liam frowned.

 

“Don't,” Mitch scoffed. “Everyone is.” He turned around and walked away, leaving the Pack to drown in their guilt. But they watched Mitch do what he did best, they watched him leave.

 

 

 


	7. Live Like Legends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch meets Greta, Stan and Irene in London. Danny is curious about Stiles. And someone's plotting to kill Mitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this written up on Wattpad. I have a total of eleven chapters published on there so yeah. Also thank you for the comments on the last chapter, I really appreciate it. It gives me more motivation to keep writing this story and make it longer as if it were a real novel.

Mitch wanted to throw a chair to someone's face after boarding the plane once again, spending more than two hundred dollars to head back. Irene Kennedy had gotten on his nerves more than several times, although he couldn't let a bunch of innocent kids die because of him. The Pack wouldn't understand what he'd do for a living, Scott would just think that it was better to save them than to kill them. That wasn't true. Terrorists have a different mind set than the average human. They take their plan into depth and in action, wanting to watch everyone suffer because of them. They were the definition of monster and Mitch will stop them.

 

Of course, it hasn't crossed his mind that it would end completely bad. There was a different between who you're targeting and who are targeting you. Those terrorists never thought to think of that because while he's planning to eliminate the bundle of terrorism groups, his enemies don't realize that he's targeting them also until Mitch really gives them a clear warning that he is. He isn't a mind reader so he had to figure out the rest once everything was put into action and some may have been better off if he had just backed off. 

 

Lastly, Mitch wasn't the one to put the blame on anyone. Especially, Irene Kennedy. His level of anger had rose to a level where he can be tolerated by just anything. The fact that he had to put so much issues of his away was not helping, it was making things worse. When he was Stiles Stilinski, he was always this happy spaz who never really cared about anything in life. He changed drastically throughout the five to seven years that he had been through. His life as Stiles were quite a bit blurry but he could remember some memories like the Kanima, the Alpha and the Alpha Pack but that was the past. This is the present.

 

He spotted a blue Jaguar XF Supercharged parked at the corner of La Torre street. The car stood out to him like it was covered in Christmas lights unlike other people who just see it as a regular car. It was a great car to use to spy on certain targets that used suspicious black vans. The only thing that bothered him was the person driving it. 

 

Stan Hurley.

 

“Hey, kid.” Stan said once Mitch approached with his duffel bag hanging off his shoulder. “Get in. Irene and Thomas are expecting you.” Without saying anything, Mitch walked around to the back of car and popped open the trunk. He threw his lightweight duffel bag in and shut it close before walking to the passenger and sat in. The seat was comfortable, what really surprised him was that he never thought Stan would go for the fancy cars. 

 

“I'm not surprised,” Mitch retorted as he stared out of the window. They were in London at the moment which gave Mitch a flashback of when he was quite framed, if he said so himself. He drifted towards his deep thoughts as they were caught in traffic but never as deep than he would usually go. “Do you know where Victor's whereabouts are? It would be great if you guys had a headstart because it would get a lot of things done faster.”

 

“Yes, we do.” Hurley smirked. “Son of a bitch doesn't know what's coming to 'im.” 

 

Mitch let out a small chuckle and bit down on the tip of his thumb. “I should've just killed Victor.” He said. “Placing a bullet in the thick hallowed brain of his would've done me great pleasure and everything would've been completely fine. How could've I been so stupid and let him off the fucking rack?”

 

“You think that's bad? I hired that piece of shit.” Hurley snorted. Mitch nodded in agreement and popped his neck joint, feeling a sense of karma when they passed by something quite suspicious. The dark building was torn down, the roof of the building was ripped off. Graffiti painted the walls but one spray painted picture stood out to him. A symbol that he's seen before but he could not point it out. It was just at the tip of his tongue. 

 

Mitch felt his phone buzz in his pockets and he huffed slightly, grabbing to reach it when Stan stopped him. “Who's  calling you? I didn't know you had friends.” He said.

 

“I don't.” Mitch blinked at him before answering the phone call. “Hello?” He greeted professionally.

 

“Stiles, it's Danny!” Mitch tensed as the hacker said with emphasis. “God, it's been a long time!” Mitch furrowed his brows and licked his lips. Danny and Mitch never really talked in their days at high school but Danny acted like they've been best friends for a long time. Sure, Mitch asked the kid if he was attracted to gay guys and searched through his bag to find something that could lead them to the latest monster back in 2009 but they never greeted each other like this. 

 

“Oh, yeah. Hi. How did you get my number?” Mitch asked curiously. He didn't give his number to his dad, Melissa, or any of the Pack members but the fact that Danny is a hacker just made it worse. He did not trust the Pack and now Danny was calling him. 

 

“Oh, um.” Danny was silent for a second before continuing again. “I heard that you were back in town but then you left abruptly before we could talk with each other so I pinned your phone when you were leaving to the airport. I know it must seem weird but I really need to talk to you.”

 

“I'm busy, Danny. Maybe later?”

 

“No. Stiles, we need to talk right now.” Mitch and Stan shared a glance when the car stopped. Stan told Mitch that he was gonna smoke a cigarette and leave them to it. As he did, Mitch casted an irritated look on his face and rubbed his temple. “Please.”

 

“Fine but you have five minutes.”

 

“Look, I know that you're angry at the Pack but you shouldn't be. They kicked you out of the Pack so they could keep you safe.”

 

Mitch groaned. “Danny, it's been seven years. I'm past that and I really don't care why they kicked me out. I'm just glad I got out of there before I ruined myself.” Mitch told him. “Is that all you needed to talk about or are we done?”

 

“We're done.” Muttered Danny who felt bad for tolerating Mitch.

 

Mitch sighed. “Look, Danny. I get that you're doing a favor but I've stopped caring about what the Pack is doing nowadays.” He looked outside the window where Greta and Stan were talking, unaware that Mitch had his window cracked up a bit. “I didn't mean to make you feel guilty but I'm not really in the mood to talk about them.”

 

“Sorry,” he apologized.

 

“Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong. I'll talk to you later, Danny.” Danny said his goodbyes and Mitch ended the call. He locked his phone away in his pocket and stepped up, greeting Greta with a smile. “Hey, Greta. I didn't expect you to be here.”

 

Greta walked up to him and pecked his lips. “Of course I'd be here.” Stan narrowed his eyes at Mitch and shook his head. Greta giggled and whispered to Mitch, “he still doesn't approve that you're dating me.”

 

Mitch gave a lopsided smile to her and kissed her cheek before leading her in the building, trailing behind Stan. The place was a bit more decorative than the other buildings that they were stationed at but this was just a temporary location for the month instead of Fairfax, Virginia. They approached the Board of Directors in their fancy court room where they would discuss the plans to prevent the bombing of a school. “General Szohr, this is Mitch Rapp and his girlfriend, Greta Ohlmeyer.” Irene introduced them without bothering to look at them. “The other is Stan Hurley, he's a Cold War Veteran.”

 

“Cold War Veteran, huh?” Szohr hummed in interest. “And Mitch Rapp is the American Assassin, am I right?”

 

“Yes, sir.” Irene nodded.

 

“I'd hate to interject,” Mitch started. “But on the behalf of Irene Kennedy, I was called here to stop one of our former recruits of the CIA. Can we please get on to that, sir?”

 

The three board of Directors looked at each other and nodded, telling them to take a seat. Greta and Mitch sat together while Stan and Irene sat on the opposite side of them. They were at least three feet away from each other as they were staring at the cold hard eyes of General Szohr, Director Fhaji and Darwin. Mitch did not flinch as to Irene who could barely keep herself in control. They were told that they were going to be in a meeting with three of the most powerful people in London and Irene had to play her cards correctly if she wanted to please them. 

 

“Well, legends are always welcomed in our building, Mr. Rapp.” Fhaji had said. “You're quite the mysterious assassin I've ever met. You hold yourself together well. It's rare to see that in young men like you.”

 

“Legend?” Mitch asked.

 

“Your identity is publicly sealed for specific purposes but your story of your kills have intrigued many government officials that they are trying to seek you out by displaying false terrorist attacks in different countries and states. Your kills are clean and thorough, never missing a shot. But I heard that you had been shot due to the lack of eye coordination, am I right?” 

 

Greta pressed her hand to the healed bullet wound on Mitch's shoulder and frowned. Mitch answered. “You're not half wrong, sir. The men who ambushed me while I was trying to eliminate a threat were using machine guns so they can get rid of me. Fortunately, I survived and killed some of the men but I did not realize that another man had approached in the end which lead to being shot.” Mitch said.

 

“Well, I'm sorry to hear that.” Fhaji said, flipping the pages of the document that they had on Mitch Ripp. It was only two pages. One full page was about Mitch's incredible rate when learning new things and the other was about what they had found out about him. It wasn't very informative since it only included his name, his birth date and his family members but not the place where he was born. 

 

Szohr shot an unamused look at Stan who growled under his breath when Fhaji made his opinions about him, most of them were good, and some were very insulting but Stan kept his mouth quiet. “You do understand that this needs to be quiet? We don't want this mission to be like what happened in Paris.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Greta squeezed his hand and rubbed his back with the other. “This will be different.”

 

“Good.” Darwin nodded. “You may be excused. For now, you will act on your own but as a team to get rid of the threat. If you do not successfully wipe him out, you will be dismissed from any counterterrorism activities.”

 

“Yes, sir.” They all said in sync. With a wave of the General's hand, they walked out of the large room in a line formation and stepped out. “Why are we even trusting them?” Mitch asked.

 

“Because they're the most powerful men in London, Mitch. If you were to make one common mistske, they would have you disbanded here from no time. They make the rules, we follow them. It doesn't matter if we're just Americans.” Irene said. “The one good thing is that they were impressed at how you handled situations without showing anything but bleakness.”

 

Stan scoffed. “Those fuckers need to lay off for awhile. I do not take being insulted lightly.” He muttered.

 

“Well, you deserved it, Stan.” Irene admits. 

 

“Why do you guys need permission to stop Victor anyways?” Greta asked. “Couldn't you just do it in the shadows? Would've that been a better way instead of wasting time?”

 

“Greta, if we caused damage that cost more than one million dollars in advance, we'd get arrested for illegally creating a war zone in the midst of London.” Stan said. “Not that I would know.”

 

“That's illegal?” Greta asked, baffled.

 

“Yeah, sweetheart.” Mitch nodded. “It just never really happened in the past couple of years.” Greta's mouth morphed into an 'O' shape as she finally understood. Standing by Irene Kennedy, the two men were leaving and Hurley fished out his keys. Greta pressed one last kiss to Mitch and grinned.

 

“I love you.” She said.

 

“I love you too.” Giving her a chaste kiss, he turned around and all of the happiness faltered. He loves Greta but he had to keep her safe. He still wasn't over his high school sweetheart, Mary, and it made it hard that he was thinking of her a lot. Greta was beautiful. She had bright green eyes, platinum blonde hair that she'd always tie in a ponytail, a slim body and a beautiful facial structure. Greta is a kind woman but Mitch did not deserve her. 

 

As they walked to the car, Stan pressed the unlock button on the smart key. But they didn't know that it triggered something within the car, causing it to blow up and throw them back forcefully as it erupted in flames. 

 

Mitch fell to the ground with small pieces of the car in him, hitting his head hard on the ground while fracturing his arm. Stan landed on the steps of the building where the sharp ends had digged into his back. Splotches blurred their vision, the smell of smoke filled their nose and muffled shouts had bombarded their ears along with a shrill ringing. 

 

Someone rigged their car, trying to kill them. 

 

Mitch was going to find whoever did and beat the hell out of them.

 

 


End file.
